


Routine, Balance

by Coldharbour



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cardiophilia, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Heartbeat Kink, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 10:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12106317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coldharbour/pseuds/Coldharbour
Summary: Personal gestures Ana & McCree share with each other.





	Routine, Balance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for all 34 of us AnaCree fans. Inspired by [Nesy's](http://nesy-art.tumblr.com/) incredible art, because day-um. Much love to [ellameno](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ellameno/pseuds/retrovertigo) for editing... and cluing me in on this couple in the first place <3

         Their interactions were always so effortless, not to mention how the pair fit together in pleasing ways. McCree would come up behind her while she was brushing her silver hair, his hands resting on Ana’s shoulders like pauldrons as she’d lean into him with a quiet sigh. Most of the time he would slip his arms around her, pulling her close and resting his forehead on her shoulder. She’d continue with her hair for a moment, knowing what he wanted but choosing to make him wait, before she’d put down the brush and comb her fingers through his unruly charcoal mane, a satisfied rumble rising in his throat as thanks. Sometimes he would run his hands down her back, in deliberate lethargic strokes, feeling the muscles flex and shift as she went through the motions of her evening routine; familiar and comforting.

         During times when McCree would tinker with his arm, she would tend to her own tools. But when Ana desired something more ‘entertaining’, she would make them both tea and then relax to watch him work, observing how his face betrayed his thoughts more than usual, and the automatic movements of small tools with his hand. Even a few mutterings, if he got frustrated enough. Typically, though, silence was comfortable for them. And, albeit rare, there were even times when she would sit, mindfully, on his right, and rest her head against his shoulder as he closed up the panels on the prosthetic.

         “You’re very good at that,” she says, voice low.

         For what it was worth, she kept him grounded. Her presence alone made him feel centered, like everything would turn out alright. Generally, that is. Unsurprisingly, there was an unpredictable welling of “consternation” on the cowboy’s part, when his mind would start racing and he’d become irrationally snappy or paranoid. When this would happen, she’d sit him down across from her and listen to his worries as she took his wrists in her practiced hands and applied pressure to the anxiety points there. She’d watch him relax, his brow unfurrowing, eyes closing, shoulders falling.

         “I’m here for you,” she assures him.

         “Ana... ...”

         Often she would try to lock eyes with him. Failing that, she would smile instead, a thumb slipping to his pulse as she gently pulled him toward her to hold her cheek against his. For the most part, this was as far as she’d go, breathing slowly so he would follow suit. However, an occasional streak of mischief would overcome her and she’d slowly turn her face towards his just so, his scruff giving her a slight shiver and her breath tickling his jaw.

         “Jesse.”

         This time she felt the pulse under her thumb surge before he drew back to look at her, giving her the eye contact she had searched for earlier. He wore an expression of profound reverence that would have made her blush in her younger days.

         “Why do you still look at me like that,” she asked. The slightest ache accompanied her words, exposing herself by looking away from his gaze for a long moment. She didn’t see his expression soften, but met his eyes once more when she heard his gruff chuckle. She was glad; his stress had seemed to vanish.

         “‘Cause.” Dark smiling eyes shone back at her. “You like it.”

         “Jesse McCree, I swear to—”

         “And I love you,” he added as he leaned in and kissed her.


End file.
